


Intimate

by admiralty



Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: Canon Friendly, Developing Relationship, F/M, From Sex to Love, Missing Scenes, Post-Canon, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 02, Until it isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22377883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/admiralty/pseuds/admiralty
Summary: Pheromones; that’s all it is. Until the moment it isn’t.
Relationships: Jean Milburn/Jakob Nyman
Comments: 47
Kudos: 220





	1. part one

  
  


“ _It’s just soup.”_

  
  


Dr. Jean Milburn has never faked a thing in her life. 

Not advice, not an orgasm. And certainly not a relationship.

She can blame ‘pheromones’ for every man she’s taken to bed since Remi. For some reason it makes everything easier; when sex is just a chemical reaction, a biological process, it feels more like fulfilling a basic human need than anything else. Uncomplicated. Straightforward. 

Just pheromones.

When Jakob enters her world, she can feel that something is different, and for the first time in her life she finds herself faking. She can’t help it. She pretends she isn’t drawn to him, she pretends there is nothing there, at least nothing that isn’t merely physical. She pretends that various appliances around her house broke all by themselves. And she even fools herself into believing it for a short while.

Then the soup arrives, and she begins to worry she’s in serious trouble. 

It’s delicious, the scent a hint of something almost floral. She doesn’t know what it is, exactly, but it feels good swimming inside her. Kind of like the way she’s starting to feel about him.

“No one’s ever made me soup before,” she points out, more to herself than to him.

“It’s just soup,” he smiles, and that smile does her in. It isn’t just soup and they both know it.

 _You are a strange woman,_ he tells her. She isn’t quite sure if “strange” is a good thing or a bad thing, but he smiles when he says it. He leaves her there flustered, confused. Aroused. 

That night she has a sex dream about him. Not an unusual occurrence for her, but it feels wrong somehow; forbidden. She doesn’t even know his name, for Christ's sake. He growls into her ear in gruff Swedish and she screams out “Mr. Builder” when she comes. 

She awakens drenched in sweat. Clearly, her body is telling her she can’t fake this anymore. This is a fantasy she might have no choice but to follow through on.

Years of advising others to value openness and directness and to be straightforward about sex is something she tends to practice herself. This crush, or attraction, is something she no longer wishes to deny. So she puts it out there. 

Pheromones; that’s all it is. Until the moment it isn’t.

He doesn’t say much, he rarely does, instead staring deeply into her soul as if he’s somehow looking right through her. And then… it just happens.

There is nothing hesitant about their first kiss, it’s pure magnetism: fire and passion and sex, sex, sex. The relief that comes over her knowing he is attracted to her as well fades into the background as she melts into his kiss. His lips practically bruise her own as his hands mold to the back of her head, and he lifts her onto her desk where she is convinced they will go further until she hears one of Otis’s friends calling frantically for her from the staircase.

They pull apart reluctantly, breathing heavily. His eyes are bluer than any she’s ever seen, and his smile appears: slowly at first but then broad as brass. Only a moment passes between them but it’s a loaded one: full of unfinished business.

 _It’s just the pheromones,_ she thinks. _It was just soup._ But her heart thrums wildly with desire that she suspects isn’t purely physical.

“That is a strange girl,” Jakob comments after Otis and his odd friend leave, looking at the door. Jean can hardly disagree, but suddenly they are alone again and she’s finding it difficult to concentrate.

“Do you think all women are strange?” she asks as she takes her cheque book out of her handbag.

“It doesn’t mean I didn’t like her,” he says, looking at Jean pointedly. “I liked her very much.” Whenever he does that her insides flutter and she feels her face getting hot. She doesn’t like feeling so out of control. Or maybe she does?

“Anyway,” she says, clicking the ballpoint against the counter. “I don’t know who to make this out to.”

“Jakob Nyman.”

“Jakob?” she repeats back. It’s unusual.

“Yes. J- A- K- O- B. Nyman.”

“Ah,” she says. She fills out the cheque. “Well, you do excellent work, Jakob. I’ll be sure to keep your card for any future… ruptures.”

He nods, smiling. She isn’t completely certain he takes her meaning but it seems like maybe he does. They look at one another for a moment and it suddenly feels exactly like it did in her office a few minutes ago, the air thick with energy and heat, but before they can allow biology to take over once again a loud car horn blares from outside.

“My daughter is here,” he explains. 

“Oh. Is she... your ride?”

“I have no driving license. Just for the moment,” he adds off her look. 

Jean smiles. “So she isn’t actually an evil demon from hell after all, then?”

He nods once more, doesn’t speak yet. She likes the way he does this; allows her words to sink in then responds thoughtfully. “You are right. She’s not so bad.”

After flashing one more smile Jean is well aware she’ll be thinking about for the rest of the week, he leaves. She wonders exactly how much trouble she’s in. 

She wonders how long she can wait before she finds out.

  
  
  
  


_“Fuck fear.”_

  
  


It’s only a couple of days before she decides to break the first of what she suspects will be many bathroom fixtures. 

She’s afraid of what this is, that it could overwhelm her thinking, swallow her whole. But this feeling has not subsided, the wondering. She’s more afraid of not knowing, possibly forever.

“I would never,” she lies to her son as he and Jakob’s daughter leave for the school dance. “Don’t be silly. Completely inappropriate.”

 _When you get older, you’ll understand,_ she’d explained to her son at age twelve. Otis had always been very aware of sex and what it all entailed, whether Jean had truly wanted that for him or not. It wafted through the air in their house, on her own lips as well as those of her dates, not to mention the dozens of patients that would filter in and out, their various problems ostensibly working their way into his prepubescent brain like sexual earworms. He’d always tolerated the parade of men traipsing in and out of their home with graceful aplomb because she’d been content and had told him as much. Jean hadn’t felt guilty, ever, because she’d never intended any of them to turn serious. 

She has room for only one man in her life, and raising one is difficult enough.

She doesn’t like lying to Otis, but she can’t help it. There’s absolutely no chance she’s not going to have sex with Jakob in approximately five minutes. 

The heart wants what it wants. 

Jakob sets down his toolbox and smiles at her, that big, diaphanous smile she’s starting to really, really enjoy seeing. The house is silent, rife with sexual tension that still lingers from their last encounter.

“So,” he begins. “This faucet.”

She swallows, hard, wondering how long they will beat around this very particular bush today. “Of course. This way.” She starts to walk toward the kitchen but he steps in front of her, stopping her. She nearly bumps into his hulking frame and has to tilt her chin up to look at him she’s so close.

“Why don’t you tell me exactly how it broke?” he suggests. 

“It, ah… Well. I was washing my hands and it just, it sort of…” he looks down at her and what she sees in his eyes is unmistakably lust. “...Just fell off.”

“It just... fell off?”

“Yes,” she says, her voice shaky. “Just... like that.”

“Just like that, eh.” His voice has abruptly changed into more of a whisper and he smells so, so good. Out of some compulsion she cannot contain she leans in and takes a whiff of his neck. 

“Are you smelling me again, Jean?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just… familiar, somehow.” She meets his eyes again. “That soup you made me… what was it?”

His pupils darken. To her great relief, he doesn’t seem to be interested in talking about soup. In fact, he doesn’t seem to be interested in talking about anything at all, and soon enough they are kissing again, nothing to interrupt them this time, every possible obstacle cleared.

They kiss all the way up the stairs, removing their clothing, tossing it aside. By the time they’re in her bedroom they are both completely naked. It’s been about two minutes since he arrived and she swears she can still hear Ola and Otis peeling out of the driveway.

Jakob absolutely lavishes her with attention, which is unusual without her having to hint, direct, prod: her typical routine. It’s the first of several times she thinks _this feels different, something about this is different_ but she still tries to ignore it. His body is covered in tattoos, and she finds herself wondering why he got each and every one. 

He has no objection to wearing a condom, which ticks off another box, passes a test several before him have failed. She’s certainly kicked out more than a handful for the slightest hint of resistance.

He hovers above her, getting into position. “How do you like this, Jean?” he asks softly, in a gravelly baritone that sends jolts to her center. He’s a man of few words but she loves each and every one. So few men ask or even care, it’s no surprise to her they shuffle in and out of her bed like assembly line rejects.

“Er… this is nice,” she says, so caught off guard by his question she doesn’t actually tell him she prefers being on top. But he smiles again, leaning down to kiss her and there is a brief moment where she imagines this very smile descending upon her again and again, just like this. It feels right, even perfect.

And then… _oh, my._

When it’s over she lies back against the headboard, exhausted, feeling what she can only describe as properly fucked. 

“Rose hip,” he says, suddenly.

“Pardon?” His accent is so thick she can barely understand him at times.

“The soup. It was rose hip soup.” He breathes heavily for a moment, his eyes twinkle and he smiles that Jakob smile. His hand rests in the crook of her knee and it feels surprisingly intimate. “So. Now I will go and fix your sink.” He heads out the door naked, presumably to travel the telltale trail along the stairs collecting his clothing. 

She lays back against the headboard and waits for the endorphins to wear off, for her usual desire to kick him out of her house to set in. She waits for a long time, listening to the sounds of him fixing her faucet coming from below.

That desire never arrives.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_“I really like you, Jean.”_

  
  


This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“I’m sorry if I’ve given you the wrong idea,” she says, the line rehearsed. Even as the words tumble from her lips she knows she’s faking, again. She’s pushing this man away and she knows she shouldn’t.

The minutes tick by excruciatingly slowly as she hears him upstairs collecting his clothes, getting dressed, preparing for a walk of shame she alone is responsible for. Finally, she hears him in the hallway moving towards the door and she suddenly feels disgusted with herself for the first time, letting a man leave like this, especially a man who'd bared his soul to her without provocation. She cannot let it end this way. 

“Jakob!” she calls, as she intercepts him in the foyer. “I’m truly sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“I had a wonderful… time, with you. I really did.”

“And you don’t want to have a relationship.” He’s smiling but his eyes betray him. He looks sad, his eyes the same ones he wore when he took her hands in the kitchen, resigned. “I understand.”

“It’s just… relationships complicate things,” she tries to explain.

“There is nothing complicated about the way I feel for you, Jean.”

As direct as she tries to be on a daily basis, she isn’t used to this kind of transparency. The worst part is she knows he’s right. This should be uncomplicated. She likes him, too. But this has to stop before it gets out of her control. Falling for Jakob was not part of the plan, the plan she’s now realizing is veering wildly off course. 

“I’m very sorry,” is all she can muster. 

After he’s gone she walks back upstairs. Her yellow bathrobe is laid out on her bed carefully. She picks it up and smells it, closing her eyes. It smells like rose hip.

  
  
  


***

  
  


Dan is really quite terrible. 

She hadn’t noticed so much before; maybe because she’s been used to the kind of sex she’s tolerated for so long.

She comes, of course, because she always does, but barely, and by her own hand. He leaves the room afterwards in only his underwear, heads downstairs to get something to eat. After a while she hears Otis and Eric arrive home. She’s relieved, oddly, that her son can see she is very clearly not sleeping with his girlfriend’s father, all the while chastising herself for not doing so.

“Dan? Are you coming back to bed?” She doesn’t want him to stay, she just doesn’t really want him chatting it up with Otis.

When he enters her room he’s wearing her robe, and the intimacy of it makes her snap.

“Take that off, please.”

He looks stunned. “I’m sorry, I, uh…” He removes it and sets it down on her bed. “You didn’t mind the last time.”

“That was last time,” she says, suddenly in an extremely rotten temper. “I think you should go, actually.” She holds the sheet up, covering her chest.

“All right, then,” he says, confused. He putters around her room, taking far too long to get dressed. “Have I done something?”

“No, nothing,” she says honestly. “I’d just really like you to… not be here anymore.”

“Right.” He finishes, then stops at the door. “Same time tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry, no,” she says decisively. She shouldn’t have called him again in the first place. She’s fucked in the head now, and she knows exactly why. She can’t stop thinking about someone else.

Dan gives her a long look. “I really hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for, Jean.” He leaves, and she waits until she hears the front door slam before she dares to move again.

She isn't sure what she's looking for, anymore. She knows what she wants to do, what her heart is telling her to do. She just needs to find the strength to do it.

_Fuck fear._

She reaches out and picks up the discarded bathrobe, bringing it to her nose. Jakob’s scent still remains.

  
  
  
  


_“It’s not just the pheromones.”_

  
  


This time, they don’t make it to a bedroom. 

Both still half-dressed, they lay on the floor of the entryway, her head resting on his bicep. Somehow she knows this time around it will not be the same. Whatever _that_ was, she wants to do it again. And again. With Jakob.

“You’re very good at that, you know,” she says.

“Am I?”

“Yes. But I didn’t just come back for the sex,” she assures him.

“I hope not,” he chuckles. “You know, I find you intimidating for such a small person.”

“Really?” 

He nods, his enormous hand gently stroking her bare shoulder. She inches a bit closer to him, to his heat. 

“What do I do that intimidates you, Jakob?”

“You are…” he searches for a word, “... a force of nature. I’ve never met a woman like you before.”

She smirks. “Is that a good thing?”

“Yes, it’s quite wonderful.”

She asks her next question carefully. She hadn’t mistaken his meaning in her kitchen last time and wants to make sure they are still on the same page. “So… what does this mean? Can we see each other again?”

“Is that what you want?”

She nods. “Yes.” She’d made the decision when she kissed him on the doorstep. She has no intention of backing down now.

“What do we say, Jean?” he asks. “When my daughter asks? When your son asks?”

Jean pauses. Otis. _Shit._ She’d been so caught up in Jakob she’d forgotten the reason she’d come over in the first place. The fact that she’d given in to her urges after explicitly promising Otis she wouldn’t notwithstanding, he’ll be even further upset if whatever this thing with Jakob is turns out to go nowhere.

“Would it be all right if we kept this between us, for the time being?” She tilts her head to look at him. “Just until I figure out how… to tell him.”

Jakob smiles. She truly believes she could lock every secret she’s ever possessed within that smile and it would stay safe forever. “Sure.”

She rolls onto her stomach, touches his cheek. “I do want to do this, very much. I want to make sure you know that.”

“I think I do.”

“This is new for me,” she says. “This relationship thing.”

“I can see so,” he says. “I’m glad you changed your mind.”

She sighs, laying her head against his chest. “I am, too.” 

She means it. She can’t remember the last time she felt so good, so absolutely sated. And something else, it’s something… else.

She knows what it is, and she doesn’t want to fake it anymore. 

She’s happy.

  
  
  



	2. part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean/ Jakob in S2. Missing scenes.

_“I want a relationship.”_

  
  
  
  


The first few days since she and Jakob decided to make it “official” have been wonderful. She’d almost forgotten how different sex feels when you actually like the person you’re sleeping with. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told him she felt like a teenager; she remembers all too well that feeling of new love, how it consumes every waking moment and makes you feel high all day long. Like a drug.

Ever since Remi left her, Jean had considered a relationship something she hadn’t wanted. Her ex had hurt her badly, betrayed her trust.The risks of intimacy far outweighed the rewards in her mind; she had a fulfilling career, and she had her son. And when it came down to it, she wasn’t certain she could deal with that kind of pain and humiliation again. Her desire for physical intimacy alone and lack of desire for any other type had shaped her post-Remi life, and she’d always made her needs perfectly clear to any men who crossed her path. 

At first it had been lonely, but then after a while she’d welcomed the independence. She’d been energized by it; this new idea that she didn’t require a man in her life to be happy.

She isn’t sure why she’s breaking this rule with Jakob, other than a feeling… a little voice telling her something about him is worth pursuing. 

This time around, however, she prefers to take things slowly. While she knows deep down Jakob would never hurt her like Remi did, she still has no desire to jump headfirst into the unknown. She isn’t sure where exactly this avenue will lead her. But it feels so good right now, the last thing she wants is to make that feeling go away.

The morning light streams in through the windows and they lie in bed together, comfortably, his large hand on her waist. She tries to recall what’s on her agenda today but finds it difficult to care when he’s here. 

He leans in to kiss her when she hears a loud, extended crash downstairs in the kitchen.

“Otis is here, shit,” she says in a slight panic. “He told me he was staying at his friend’s house last night.”

“Why can’t you just tell him about us?” Jakob asks.

She sighs. “You don’t know Otis the way I do. He’ll make this about himself. He’s a sixteen-year-old boy who thinks the world revolves around him.” 

“I think things will not be so bad, Jean.” 

She wraps her arms around him and lays her head on his chest. “How do you think they will react, honestly? What about your daughter?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I’ve never done this before. But I do know Ola would want me to be happy.”

She wonders if Otis wants her to be happy, too. Happy enough that he’d be fine with the fact that she’s sleeping with his girlfriend’s father. 

“I don’t know,” she says quietly, honestly.

He squeezes her waist a bit, looks at her in that way that grounds her whenever she feels uneasy. “You worry too much.” 

One of the things she loves most about Jakob is his ability to uncomplicate everything she overanalyzes. As each day passes she is more and more certain she’s found someone who may actually be perfect for her, and she doesn’t know why she still feels all this underlying pressure. 

She releases him after kissing him briefly. “Stay here, okay? Try to be quiet.”

She throws a bathrobe on and heads downstairs, finding Otis stuffing a bunch of pots and pans back into the cupboard.

“Good morning, darling,” she greets him.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he asks. “These don’t… fit.” He shoves the last pan, which is actually a colander, into the cupboard and shuts the door.

“No no, I was up,” she assures him. “Weren’t you meant to stay at Eric’s?”

Otis looks a bit awkward. “I was, yes, but… I had stuff to do here.”

Jean raises an eyebrow.

“Homework,” he clarifies, and although she isn’t sure she believes him, she can hardly blame him for keeping secrets. It would be hypocritical of her to pry. She gives him a slightly suspicious smile, but leaves it at that. 

“You seem in a good mood,” Otis says, presumably in an attempt to change the subject. 

“Do I?” she asks coyly. “Huh.” She pulls a mug down and notices the coffee pot is full. She smiles. Sometimes her son can be quite thoughtful.

“Thanks for making coffee,” she says, pouring herself a cup.

“I haven’t seen any of your ‘friends’ around lately,” he points out. She whips around, a bit surprised by his comment.

“I’ve been so busy, you know,” she covers. “Being on my own has been a nice change.”

Otis nods knowingly, smiles. “I think you do well on your own, Mum,” he observes. She wonders if he really believes that, or if he’s simply grateful for the reprieve of strange men in the house. The fact that it’s only been a week and Otis has noticed their absence isn’t lost on her.

His phone buzzes and he checks it. “Well, I’m off,” he says, standing up. “Eric is here.”

“Have a good day.”

“I’ll be home late, I’m going to Ola’s later,” he says.

“Otis,” she says, stopping him. He pulls his backpack on and looks back at her.

“Yeah?”

“How would it make you feel if…” she stops, looks up into his eyes. The tension between them had diffused after she’d agreed to put her book project on hold, and ever since, she feels like she’s getting her son back. But every time she considers telling him about Jakob, the desire to keep the peace wins out.

“...If what?”

“Never mind, it’s not important,” she smiles. “Off you go, darling, don’t be late.”

“Bye, Mum.”

  
  


***

  
  


After he leaves, and she’s triple checked that he’s really gone, she heads back upstairs with a cup of coffee for Jakob. He is still in bed, leafing through a copy of _Pillow Talk._

“Your ex, he is… a writer, still?” he asks.

“Please don’t read that, it’s terrible,” she non-answers, setting his mug on the bedside table. She’d been proud of it when they’d written it together, but that was before she’d learned what little Remi actually knew about maintaining a healthy relationship. Before he’d shattered her world and left behind a stunted son and sixty thousand words of bullshit.

“If you wrote it, I’m sure it isn’t,” he smiles.

“I appreciate your faith in me, Jakob, but it truly is shit.”

He closes the book, looks at the cover. “He is quite handsome. Very… clean looking.”

“He’s an asshole,” she says, crawling back into bed. 

“What happened, Jean?” he asks. She blinks. It seems too early to get into this, but she doesn’t want to appear like she’s hiding something.

“Well… he was a therapist as well…” she debates revealing the truth, but decides to go with it. “And... he slept with one of his patients. In our house.”

Jakob winces and his eyes flicker. 

“...While Otis was at home,” she finishes.

He looks personally offended, as if he can feel the pain she’d experienced all those years ago. “Oh, Jean. That’s terrible. I am so sorry you went through that,” he says. He puts his hand on her cheek and looks at her, really looks into her eyes as if he’s searching for something. 

“Not your fault,” she says. She takes the book out of his hands and tosses it to the floor. “If I had it my way, he’d be a blip… completely out of my life. But… there’s Otis, who still worships the ground he walks on.”

He nods. “I see.” 

She wonders if he really does see, if he even sees right through her; that perhaps this is the reason she’s so resistant to intimacy. It’s only natural for Jakob to bring up Remi, to be curious about the man she used to be married to. But she has no desire to bring that part of her past into their present.

“I have a client in an hour,” she tells him, suddenly cognizant of her schedule. 

“Can I cook for you tonight?” he asks.

“I think that can be arranged,” she replies with a smile. “Come back around four?” It should be safe tonight. Otis is supposed to be with Ola. For the first time she allows herself to appreciate how truly weird this will be for him when he eventually does find out. 

If he eventually finds out.

When Jakob returns that evening, grocery bags in hand, he’s gotten his hair cut short. It looks a little like Remi’s.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_“Do it again, just a little bit slower”_

  
  
  


The ‘slow’ plan hadn’t worked out. In fact, everything now seems to be moving ahead at the speed of light.

After Otis and Ola stumble across them in flagrante delicto, everything comes out in a way that’s beyond her control. This isn’t the way it should have happened; she’d imagined sitting Otis down, addressing the situation calmly. Now not only does he have to deal with this new reality, but he has yet another scarring image to add to his repertoire. 

Otis bursts out of the house in a frustrated rage, and Jean sits at the kitchen table with Jakob and Ola.

“He’ll come around,” Jakob says, which Jean thinks is quite a reach, considering how little he knows Otis. They sit there slightly awkwardly, then fix their respective gazes upon Ola, who hasn’t said much.

“How do you feel about all this?” Jakob asks her.

She shrugs. “I think it’s cool.”

“You do?” Jean asks.

“I’m not surprised, anyway,” Ola says. “You should see how many times Dad changed his shirt whenever he went on a call to your house.”

Jakob glares at Ola, but Jean reaches for his hand beneath the table, squeezes it tenderly.

“I haven’t seen you this happy in a while, Dad. It’s nice to know why.” Ola smiles. 

“Thank you, Ola,” Jean says gratefully. Otis will be difficult enough; it’s nice to know they have a little bit of support.

Part of her is relieved it’s come out; at least the stress of wondering when and where is gone. But there is another part of her that rears its ugly head now, one she can’t ignore: the part that had secretly hoped it might never have to come out at all. The part that had assumed maybe, like all the others, this thing would run its course without Otis ever knowing.

That isn’t what she’d wanted, of course. But she wouldn’t have been surprised if it had happened all the same.

  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  


“I’ll take a look at your boiler if you like,” Jakob says, as a cloud of the last remaining bits of steam the shower will create this morning cling to him. She grumbles a bit, annoyed, because if he weren’t here, in theory, the amount of hot water is perfectly suited for herself and Otis, as it always has been. Although, coincidentally, it does seem lately that Otis has been spending more and more time in the bathroom, using up the hot water himself. She knows what that probably means, although she prefers not to think about it too much.

Jakob seems to think that because Otis and Ola are now aware of the relationship, that alone has pushed them forward. He begins staying over more often, begins leaving possessions around the house. Begins using up all of her fruit making smoothies. 

Begins taking up all the hot water himself.

These things attempt to find their way in, do their best to eat away at her contentment. But she tries not to let them. Overall she is happy with Jakob; he makes her laugh, she enjoys his company. The sex is magnificent. Despite the minor annoyances, he’s working his way into her life and she wants desperately to allow it.

She thinks she may be falling in love with him. She must be, despite this feeling of losing control. It seems as if these two emotions are competing in a race, and she isn’t sure which one will cross the finish line first. 

After the call from Maxine Tarrington, she heads downstairs. Jakob is nowhere to be found. She wanders into her office, plunks down into her chair. 

This job opportunity at Moordale has come at just the right time. She wants to write, desperately, but she’d promised Otis she wouldn’t write about him anymore. And unless she finds some kind of inspiration soon, the publisher will lose interest and move on.

She stares at the wall, wondering how exactly she’s going to tell Otis she’ll be speaking openly about sex in front of his peers. Soon enough, Jakob appears in her doorway. He’s still in his towel. 

“Boiler’s fucked,” he says. 

“Is it?”

“I have to go home to get parts. I’ll come back and fix it for you, yeah?” 

“Oh. Okay, thank you.” Years of lack of attendance to her various appliances seems to be finally catching up with her. Remi had always dealt with this stuff. “I suppose it’s high time I admit that the only reason I’m dating you is because my house seems to be falling apart,” she smirks.

He smiles, takes a couple of lumbering steps towards her, and leans down to kiss her. Her hand involuntarily goes to the top of the towel, and she dips her finger inside, dragging it along his abdomen. She isn’t even particularly horny right now, Jakob just has this effect on her. Maybe there really is something to her pheromones theory after all.

“You can thank me later,” he says, removing her hand. “I will fix it first.”

“Do you think you’ll be done by this afternoon? I have clients starting at two and I’d really like to be... _clean_.”

“Noon,” he promises. “And for the record, I like you dirty.”

The boiler is fixed by 11:45. He makes her come twice in the (hot) shower.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_“You’re sexy when you’re passionate.”_

  
  
  


They’ve been together for about a month when he asks her a question she hasn’t heard in years.

“What is your kind of birth control?”

She’s never had one of her nightly visitors ask her this, her insistence on using contraception every single time precluding the necessity. 

“I have an IUD,” she explains. “I tried several forms of birth control and they all completely annihilated my sex drive. This was the only one that didn’t.”

Knowing where the conversation is headed, she continues. “I’ve... also been tested for STIs recently, as well. Just so you’re aware.”

He nods. She wants to ask him the same question, but before she can, he offers her everything. “After Ola, I had a vasectomy. Two demons from hell is plenty for me.” He smiles. “And since my wife… there has been no one else.” 

She hasn’t forgotten she’s the only woman he’s slept with since his wife. In fact, she’s found it difficult not to think about it. 

“I’ve had a health check very recently, however. Nothing interesting to report,” he adds.

“Oh.” She thinks. She supposes with this new information the condoms may not be necessary. “So… maybe we don’t need to use condoms anymore?”

“If you’re comfortable with that,” he says, and in his eyes she sees relief. “Only if you’re comfortable.”

“Not necessary,” she says softly. “I’m comfortable.” She is, surprisingly. 

They lay there quietly for a moment and then, out of the blue, she hears the words she’s been hoping to hear and dreading at the same time.

“I love you, Jean.”

She blinks, and turns her head to look at him. It’s so unexpected that she can feel her body physically react. Surely this is too soon, but something about the look on his face suddenly puts her entirely at ease. His words don’t scare her like they might coming out of another man’s lips.

She opens her mouth to speak but he stops her. She can tell from the twinkle in his eye he suspects what she’s thinking.

“I know it’s soon. You don’t have to say it back.”

She wants to say it. She’s pretty sure she even means it. But something stops her, that thing that lives deep down inside that has prevented the words from leaving her mouth since Remi broke her heart all those years ago.

His smile calms her and in response, instead of making the loaded moment awkward, he leans in to kiss her again. She smiles into his mouth, runs her fingers through his hair, drapes her leg over his waist.

She can’t say it to him, not yet, but she can show him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
_“This isn’t about the pan shelves, is it?”_

  
  
  
_I love you, Jean._

The words Jakob uttered take root in her mind. He loves her. _Loves her._

She wants to be loved; of course she does. It’s been so long since she’s thought it possible that being faced with the reality of it is hitting her like a ton of bricks. Jakob loving her has always felt like an inevitability, and regardless of how she feels for him, his declaration feels like an unwanted thrust, propelling them forward, careening towards the very intimacy she’s now quite certain she fears.

She hates that she feels this way; restless and panicky. She’s reminded of the last time he revealed so much of himself, how her reaction had been similar.

_I really like you, Jean._

She really liked him too, so much that she’d practically kicked him out of her house and immediately called Dan. There was a little voice in her head telling her not to call him; that she was only doing it to prove to herself she still had control over her independence. That she was running away from something. 

In any event, faced with Remi alone in the house now, she feels the same rebelliousness coursing through her. The alcohol isn’t hurting, either.

She doesn’t want to kiss Remi. She doesn’t even like him. He’s quite possibly the last man on earth she wants to kiss. But that voice… the one that’s telling her _don’t_. She likes that voice even less.

Something takes ahold of her and she kisses him, lets him kiss her back, even pushes him down, climbing on top of him, completely prepared to do this, when the front door slams.

Otis, to the rescue. _Thank God._

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


She feels like shit for what she’s done. She’s supposed to, she knows this. But it’s eating her up inside. 

She wonders if she can get away with Jakob not knowing about it at all, and as she becomes increasingly aggravated by his constant presence she knows it isn’t him anymore; it’s her own guilt. His little piles of loose change are absolutely nothing compared to her betrayal and she knows it. 

The sound of the drill in her kitchen is obnoxious, but what it represents is worse: his complete and utter ignorance of all the terrible feelings she’s been repressing. He’s trying to make her life easier with a shelf but nothing about letting another person in entirely is easy. 

The guilt compounds and compounds until it has nowhere to go anymore. So she does the only thing she can think to do; make this about him. About his shortcomings, about his faults. Make herself feel better about her own. She has so many doubts, so much baggage, and she tries desperately to keep it together but it’s too much.

_Take your hand away._

She now knows what the pressure she’s been feeling is. It isn’t just the guilt; she isn’t built for this kind of codependence. The overabundance of pent up emotions and feelings builds until it’s an incomprehensible mess.

It cannot remain, it will not sustain.

So she takes her hand away, and like a deluge, everything comes spilling out. 

Everything.

“I kissed Remi.” 

There is sadness in his eyes, but something else, too; something akin to acceptance. As if he’d anticipated this. She isn’t sure if that hurts more than the betrayal itself.

She doesn’t know what she’d expected him to do; maybe get loud, angry and passionate, like when they watch Masterchef. But what he does is worse: he says nothing, only quietly turning his back, drilling the last three screws into her shelf. Still keeping his promises. Still trying to make her world better while his own falls apart.

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


Her workshop had cleared out hours ago. Jakob knocks on the door, which he normally would enter without announcing his arrival. She’d gotten used to it. The knock is hollow and upsetting.

“I came to pick up my tools,” he says shortly as she opens the door for him. She nods, and he brushes past her, saying nothing else, moving from room to room, collecting his belongings.

She watches him, a coiling in her gut telling her this is really, truly over for him. _It can’t be over, though. It was only a kiss._ “Jakob, please talk to me.”

“You said he’s an asshole,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t understand.”

“He is!” Jean exclaims. “It meant absolutely nothing.”

Jakob can’t bring himself to look at her as he collects his things. “Which makes it worse, Jean.”

“How does that make it worse?”

“Because this isn’t about your ex,” he explains. “You did this because of us, because there is something wrong with us.”

“Jakob…” she trails off, helpless, because he’s right. He’s right and she hates herself for it.

“If you are afraid, Jean, you need to tell me,” he says. He looks absolutely miserable and she can hardly blame him. He’d told her he loved her, and she hadn’t said it back. Then she’d kissed another man.

“I don’t know what happened,” she says honestly. “I panicked. And I’m so sorry.”

He approaches her, and she thinks his eyes must be bluer than ever. She realizes it’s because he’s trying his hardest not to let her see him cry. 

“It should not be this hard to love someone,” he says, and the words hit her like a punch to the gut. 

For one rare moment in her life she is completely out of things to say. He reaches out, touches her cheek. “I think this is for the best, Jean.”

After he’s gone, she walks back into the kitchen, into the pantry, to inspect the shelf he’d installed. It looks like she feels: completely empty.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_“You’re not ready for the kind of intimacy I’m looking for.”_

  
  
  


Jakob’s words strike her on their own; it’s enough to know that he finds her not only unforgivable, but deficient. She nods, head held up high at first, and focuses on getting out of his sight.

She closes the door behind her, alone in this house she doesn’t recognize, suddenly alone with a Jean she doesn’t recognize. She’s claustrophobic and feels like she might be having a panic attack. 

But it isn’t a panic attack. It’s a horrifying, gut wrenching realization she’s only coming to grips with in this very moment.

  
  
  


_“I want to be a good father,” Remi moans next to her in the passenger seat._

_“To which children?”_

_She wonders for the umpteenth time why it had been so goddamn hard for him to love his son, to love her. Why they couldn’t be a family. It was a long time before she’d accepted it wasn’t ever them; it was only him, all along._

_“I’m not cut out for intimacy, Jeannie. Of any kind.” It isn’t an avoidance of her question. His intimacy issues clearly extend to his own children as well._

_Remi looks beaten down, broken. She doesn’t feel sorry for him; moreso glad that he’s finally accepted the truth. But then he looks at her and cuts her deeply. “It’s somewhat of a comfort to see you aren't, either.”_

_Her eyes flash, and in this moment she hates him, really hates him. But she has no reply, no defense. She’d kissed him an hour after introducing him to Jakob. Maybe she deserves to hear this, to let it pierce her like a full quiver of arrows._

_“I’m not like you, Remi,” is all she can muster._

  
  
  


She grips the wall, trying to keep herself from collapsing, as she wonders if that’s really true.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. part three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She tries to see the silver lining; the quiet means a return to her independence. She’s missed it. But she’s only fooling herself; the quiet really only brings to the painful forefront how lonely she feels.
> 
> She doesn’t miss her independence anymore. She misses Jakob. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of this story. It goes post-canon in the direction I anticipate the series taking. Trigger warning: mentions of pregnancy loss.
> 
> Shout-out to Monika, Jaime, Nicole and Fiona for the beta :)

  
  
  


_“I understand it’s a natural stage of puberty--_ _the desire for autonomy--_

_but I guess I wasn’t expecting it to hurt so much.”_

  
  
  


She doesn’t remember leaving the doctor’s office. Getting into her car, driving home, somehow arriving in one piece. All of it is a blur. What she does remember is a house with big windows, the hillside, nothing but blue skies reflected in Jakob’s wounded eyes as he told her _no_ . _No more chances._

What she does remember is feeling alone.

When she walks into her house, her sanctuary, the first thing she notices is the quiet. No more lumbering footfalls, no more loud snoring. There are no more blenders blending. No more drills drilling. The only evidence a man has ever lived under this roof is the kicked off pair of her son’s sneakers by the door.

She tries to see the silver lining; the quiet means a return to her independence. She’s missed it. But she’s only fooling herself; the quiet really only brings to the painful forefront how lonely she feels.

She doesn’t miss her independence anymore. She misses Jakob. 

She misses all the very things she’d pushed him away for: the tiny piles of loose change, his warm body taking up space in her bed. She misses his smile, the one she’d taken for granted, the one that always made her day a little bit better. His voice, his arms. His hands. Rough, calloused workman’s hands that knew exactly how to touch her at night, and how to build her things when the sun came up. 

He’d only wanted to make her life better. Now that he’s gone, everything is worse.

The loneliness is almost too much to bear, and her head is too full of Jakob to focus on the things she needs to, which are: the repercussions of Otis’s ilicit sex advice business and possibly losing her job at Moordale. Not to mention that other little something that, in a few months, will be turning into a big something. 

Her stomach lurches and she runs into the bathroom to vomit. While cleaning up at the sink, she looks into the mirror, into her own puffy-eyed face, and the persistent ache thrums once again beneath her breast.

_I think you’re suffering from a broken heart._

She wouldn’t know if she was. She’s never experienced anything quite like this before. The pain is so intense she’s about to pick up the phone to talk to her GP again when there’s a knock at the door.

 _Jakob_ , she hopes, but when she opens the door it’s Maureen, doe-eyed and grinning, holding a bottle of wine.

“Just thought I’d pop by - Jean…?” Maureen’s eyes do that thing where they threaten to turn entirely black. “What’s the matter?”

Jean can feel her own face changing into despair she can no longer contain and rather than a flood of tears, what bursts out are the words she hasn’t said to anyone else yet.

“I’m pregnant.”

Maureen’s jaw drops and she steps forward to embrace her friend, unsure of everything, but knowing what to do in any case. She holds her on the front stoop, and seconds pass, maybe minutes, Jean’s tears flowing out and her shoulders hitching with shuddered breaths. Eventually she calms, and Maureen leads her back into the house wordlessly, closing the door, walking into the kitchen. 

She sits across the island from Jean and they regard each other. After a moment Maureen screws open the top of the wine bottle and pours herself a glass. 

“You don’t mind, do you?”

Jean shakes her head; of course she doesn’t mind. Wide-eyed, Maureen takes several gulps, then looks at Jean curiously.

“How are you feeling about this?” 

Jean shakes her head. “I don’t know,” she says. 

“And, you’re sure…?” Maureen asks carefully, the implication clear. _You’re sure it’s his?_

“Well, that’s the other thing.”

She’s nearly twelve weeks along. Twelve weeks was about when she and Jakob got together, but there is definitely another, albeit distinct, possibility.

Perhaps even less distinct with the knowledge Jakob has had a vasectomy.

Maureen takes her meaning, and her eyes widen again. “ _Oh_.”

Jean slept with Dan once in those past twelve weeks, right after she’d begun to push Jakob away the first time. 

_The first time_. Her heart constricts again with guilt and shame. He’d never even known she’d begun pushing him away before they’d really started to come together. 

She hadn’t yet considered the likelihood that Jakob might think she’d actually cheated on him if he found out about the pregnancy. And although she hadn’t, besides that ill-advised kiss with Remi, she certainly hasn’t behaved in a way that would warrant his trust. 

She wants to throw up again just thinking about it.

Maureen takes a sip of her wine. “Are you going to tell Jakob?”

Jean’s lip quivers, her brow furrows. The thought of not telling him about this hurts worse than anything right now, but what would she say? Considering what they’ve been through over the past few days, her very real desire to be with him would, in his mind, surely hinge on this decision regardless of her true feelings. Would he ever believe that she wants him, truly? Especially if this baby isn’t even his?

“I’m afraid that if I tell him… no matter what my decision is, no matter what the truth is, he’ll think this is the only reason I would want to maintain our relationship.”

The women look at one another. There really seems to be no good answer right now.

“Well…” Maureen asks the question she’s been avoiding thus far. “Are you going to...” She’s reluctant to even finish the sentence: _are you going to keep the baby?_

Jean takes a deep breath. “The odds of a woman my age carrying a baby successfully to term are against me. That’s terrifying.” Maureen nods in understanding. “But… I can’t…” She won’t finish the sentence. _I can’t abort what might be Jakob’s baby._

Her hand goes to her abdomen and she thinks of Otis. The absolute best thing in her life. She thinks of Jakob and his girls. Against all possible odds this has become her reality. Could she do this again? What if it’s all meant to be?

_What if?_

Maureen looks at her friend thoughtfully. “I think… you need to figure out, for sure, if Jakob is the father. Because if he is, perhaps that will affect your decision.”

Jean nods. “You’re right. My doctor told me I could get a paternity test when I have my amniotic screening in a couple of weeks. I just need a bit of his DNA.”

“And how do you intend to get that without him knowing about it?” Maureen asks. 

“I don’t think it’s going to be a problem,” Jean says, thinking about the state of her bathroom. She certainly hasn’t been in any mood to clean it lately. “Jakob is the hairiest man I’ve ever been with.”

Maureen laughs, grateful for the moment of levity, and reaches out to cover her hand. “Whatever you decide, whatever you need, just know if I can help, I’ll be there in a flash.” 

Jean smiles warmly, knowing that, whatever happens with Jakob and the baby, she’s certainly lucky to have this friend in her life right now. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_“And the nightingale was a crow.”_

  
  


She hears a key in the lock, and for a horrible moment she thinks it might be Remi again, back to further disrupt her life. But thankfully, it’s only Otis. He shuffles in apprehensively, dropping his backpack onto a chair.

“Hi,” he offers. They’d made peace back at the musical, but there are still things to say and they both know it. As he gets closer she can see the concern etched in his face.

She quickly wipes her tears away. “Hello, darling,” she says. “I thought you’d be out late.”

“I did too, but… I guess not.” He pulls out his phone, presumably checking for messages, shoves it back into his pocket. “You… okay, Mum?”

Is she okay? No, she isn’t. Maybe she never will be.

“I’m okay,” she lies. She’s never spoken about her relationship with Jakob to Otis, not really. He’d always seemed to prefer it that way. 

“You’re not okay,” he says, sitting next to her. “I may be a crap therapist, but even I can tell when you’re not yourself.”

She doesn’t know how much detail to divulge. She reasons that revealing to Otis the entire story of how she’d kissed his father and its subsequent effect on her relationship with Jakob would be far more damaging in the long run than not revealing it at all. Besides, she’s well aware now that was hardly the issue.

She sighs heavily. “I think... you were right, Otis. I’m just too independent for a relationship.” She doesn’t want to admit how much he’d gotten into her head, but he’s willing to talk now and she wants to give him something. “Jakob wanted more than I could give.”

Otis shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s true.”

She looks at him. “What do you mean?”

“I think you have a lot to give.”

There’s a comfortable silence between them as she lets this sink in. Of course she does, and even she knows it. But Jakob doesn’t know it, and she can hardly blame him. She’s done nothing but disappoint him.

“I think… even if that were true,” she says carefully, “it’s too late now.”

Otis shakes his head. “I said that about my friendship with Eric, remember? And you told me not to give up. You were right. Keep trying. Show him you mean it.” He grins. “You’ll be back together before you know it, you’ll see.”

She smiles, and he leans in to give her a hug. Her heart may be broken but she still has Otis, and maybe he can help her put the pieces back together.

“Thank you, darling,” she says softly over his shoulder. “And you are not a crap therapist. You just need a little bit more experience. And a license,” she adds pointedly, pulling away and holding him by the shoulders.

“Right,” he grins, abashed.

She pauses, then seizes the moment. “I don’t mean to pry, Otis…” she begins, “...but since you’ve offered the information to the entire school that you’re now... sexually active... might I offer a bit of advice? As a more experienced person?”

He grimaces, but relents. “Okay.”

“You mentioned it was… less than optimal,” she said, trying to catch his eye even as he avoids hers, “and even if it was, it doesn’t mean your future sexual experiences won’t be completely fulfilling,” she says. “Most people don’t get it right their first time.”

He nods reluctantly, and his body tenses up. “Thank you,” he manages through gritted teeth.

“And… I’m here if you ever want to talk about anything.”

“I know, Mum.” He takes his phone out again, checks it anxiously. Puts it back in his pocket.

“Are you expecting a call, darling?”

He shakes her question off, but just when she thinks she’ll get nothing he speaks again. “You know, when I was camping with Dad, he told me that sometimes you’re just with the wrong person.”

 _He wasn't wrong_ , she thinks. 

“Dad didn't know he was with the wrong person. You didn’t know. I didn't know, Ola didn’t know.” He shakes his head. “I just don’t understand.”

Jean thinks for a moment. “Well, Otis, your father didn’t know a crow from a nightingale, either.”

He laughs. “That’s true,” he admits, remembering. “But then… how do you… know? When it is the right person?”

Jean muses. “I loved your father, Otis, I did. But at a certain point, part of me knew, somehow, that our relationship was just… a crow.” Jean smiles, thinking wistfully of Jakob, and delivers the only bit of advice she feels qualified to offer right now. “There’s a moment in a relationship, I think, when you’ll know it’s a nightingale.”

Otis thinks about this, then grins, and she sees what appears to be a hint of satisfaction in his expression. He then pulls his phone out once more, checks it. She wonders who he’s expecting a call from. 

She wishes he would confide in her. 

They both stare at the blank television for several moments, lost in their own respective thoughts.

“ _The Princess Bride_?” he asks. It’s her favorite, not his.

“Oh. Well, sweetheart, I think it’s your pick,” she replies.

“That is my pick.”

She smiles, ruffles his hair. She feels a warm rush within her, of pride, of relief. She is raising a good man after all.

  
  


_“Sometimes the people we like don’t like us back,_

_and there’s nothing you can do about it.”_

  
  
  


After Mr. Groff’s meltdown and probation, he’d apparently suffered a bout of guilt and confessed to having papered the school with Dr. Milburn’s private notes. Subsequently, Maxine Tarrington had been instrumental in getting Jean reinstated at Moordale. Rather than repeating the same failing methods over and over again, Tarrington had listened to the students and realized Jean’s presence at the school was far more helpful than harmful. 

The administrator had offered Jean a paid position as part-time counselor, and although her clients usually kept her plenty busy, Jean had accepted. After the things she’d seen over the past few weeks, the opportunity to speak to and help young people was more appealing than ever.

Besides, she was realizing that work is life’s greatest distraction from actually living.

A couple of weeks pass, and while Jean certainly tries to avoid actively thinking about the tiny life growing inside her, she can’t help but do so. She turns over a bit of Jakob’s DNA at her amniotic screening and wonders what the outcome will be. 

She can’t decide what she hopes the outcome will be.

“Morning, Jean!” 

A cheerful, familiar voice comes from behind her as she approaches the front of the school. She turns to see a most welcome face.

“Morning, Eric,” she greets the ebullient youth. He is grinning from ear to ear, dressed from head to toe in a bright aquamarine suit. It’s rare when Eric Effiong cannot elicit a smile. “How are you?”

“Smashing, and you?”

“Just wonderful.” She eyes him. “That was quite a showstopper the other day, Eric,” she says, referring to Adam Groff’s overtures at the school play. “Very romantic.”

A look of pure joy washes over Eric’s face. “ _So_ romantic, right?”

Jean nods encouragingly. “It was _Dirty Dancing_ caliber.”

Eric laughs, that wonderful, throaty laugh, and strikes a pose. “Don’t put Eric in a corner.”

“Never,” she smiles. “Oh… have you seen Otis this morning, by the way?”

“I haven’t,” Eric says, continuing past her, but then throws over his shoulder, “although he’s probably with his new girlfriend.” 

Jean blinks. “Girlfriend?” 

But Eric is out of earshot and Jean is left bewildered. Has Otis gotten back together with Ola? Is he dating Pantsuits Girl from the house the other morning? Or is it someone else entirely?

As Jean approaches her new office, she sees an opportunity to rule out one of those possibilities immediately. Ola stands next to the door, waiting, her thumbs hooked behind the straps of her knapsack, beaming brightly.

“Hello Ola,” Jean smiles. “How are you?” She’s always liked Ola; regardless of her relationship status with Otis, she brings such light and life into whatever space she inhabits. 

“Good, thanks,” Ola answers as Jean lets them both into her office. It’s a nice office this time, a more permanent one. A definite upgrade. It’s four doors down from her old repurposed classroom, where she can’t hear the slamming of lockers or smell ‘teenager’ as strongly.

“It’s been some time since we’ve talked, although it seems your little problem has been resolved,” she adds, fishing. 

Ola sits across from Jean, a bashful grin spreading across her face. “I just wanted to thank you for your advice. I think you were right when you said Lily may have been reacting to her own fears and insecurities. Luckily she was willing to take that leap with me.”

Jean smiles back, suddenly feeling a bit introspective. “It’s nice to see that love still can conquer all, on occasion.”

“Well, we haven’t said ‘love’ yet.” 

“Even so,” Jean says. “You two seem to be communicating effectively, which is very important in growing and maintaining a relationship. It’s nice to see Lily has embraced her identity, at least as a person capable of exploring herself with you.”

Ola exhales with relief. “So far, at least.”

Jean smiles, and can’t help but wonder why Ola and Otis fell apart, exactly. She looks at the desk, sees the scratched _SEX KID SAVED MY LIFE_ mocking her. 

Ola looks embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I suppose it’s a little strange to be talking to you about this.”

Jean shakes her head. “Not at all, Ola, I want you to feel comfortable to talk to me about anything.” She shrugs. “It’s what I’m here for.”

Ola smiles. “Even though Otis and I broke up?”

“Especially because of that,” she says confidently. “I would never want you to think you can’t talk to me because of that.”

The girl looks down, fumbles a bit with her overalls. “Is he… okay?” she asks.

Jean smiles. “He’s going to be fine,” she assures Ola. If nothing else, she’s noticed Otis’s sullen behavior has taken an upturn. “I know he wants you to be happy.”

Ola smiles and eyes her curiously. “I’m really sorry things didn’t work out, by the way,” she says. “With you and Dad.”

Jean feels the ache again, the ache of a chance missed. Her mouth tightens into a thin line. “Sometimes things just… don’t work out the way you’d hoped.”

Ola nods a bit, and Jean wants to let her get up, she wants to resist the urge to cross a line she shouldn’t, but she can’t.

“How… is he?” she asks quietly, and Ola tilts her head a bit, as if she expected this.

“Um… well, you know,” she stumbles a bit, “he’s… Dad.”

“Ola.” Jean narrows her eyes. 

Ola bites her lip nervously, and although Jean instantly regrets putting her in this position, the information is more valuable to her than her scruples. “If you really want to know, he’s not good,” Ola says, and while Jean was hoping for this answer, she’s heartbroken to hear it all the same.

“Oh.”

The women look at each other, sizing one another up. Jean knows they’re both wondering the same thing about each other’s respective relationships: who broke the other’s heart?

Ola looks right at Jean, as if somehow she knows the truth. “It’s worse than it was after Mom.”

A tightening in her gut makes her eyes close, and Jean yet again wonders how she could possibly have fucked this up. This piece of news doesn’t surprise her; not because she feels worthy of such a reaction, but because she knows Jakob. She knows his heart, how full it is. How she’d carelessly tossed it aside. And how, regardless of whether or not he wants to be with her, he’s suffering because he can’t be with her.

Ola stands, shoves her hands into her pockets. “Well, I hope the new job works out,” she smiles. “I really do think the school will be better off with you around. A little more professional than Otis and Maeve, at least.”

Jean shakes off the thoughts of Jakob to wonder. “Maeve?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ola says, a bit confused. “I thought you knew. She’s the one he was running the sex clinic with.”

“I wasn’t aware he had a partner, no,” Jean concedes. She’d been aware of Otis’s punishment, the hours and hours of detention he’d received, but he’d confided little else. The pieces seem to be coming together by the hour. 

She tries to recall if she’s ever met with a student named Maeve, tries to place her in a long parade of Moordale faces she’s seen over the past several weeks, but she can’t. 

Ola heads towards the door, but before her hand touches the knob, Jean calls out to her.

“Ola.”

She turns. “Yeah?”

Jean takes a deep breath, gives her a friendly smile. “Will you tell your dad I said hello?”

At this, Ola smiles sadly. “Will do.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_“But we can never let them know how much they make us feel lonely.”_

  
  
  


Jean knows exactly what a miscarriage feels like.

Otis had been very young at the time, and the prospect of giving him a sibling had delighted her. When she’d lost the baby, all hope of giving that to him dissipated. She still suspects her sex life with Remi had suffered because of it.

It isn’t any easier this time, but the heartbreak from this loss cannot possibly supersede the one she’s already experiencing. There simply isn’t any more room in her heart for pain. 

The phone rings as she’s in the bathroom, one hand on her cramping abdomen and the other covering her face, holding in the tears she’s trying hard to avoid. 

_“Jean, it’s Doctor Cross. Just wanted to call and let you know we received the results of your paternity test and it’s a 97% match. I hope this was the news you were expecting. Please call before five if you have any questions. Hope you’re well.”_

The beep of her machine echoes inside her Jakobless bedroom and finally the floodgates open as she weeps, her body aching, her heart aching, every part of her in unparalleled misery.

She wants to call Jakob but what will she say? 

_I rejected you and now I’ve rejected our baby, too._

She lays down on the bed. Sleep takes her.

  
  
  
***

  
  


“...Mum?”

She hears her son’s voice just outside her door but can’t turn her head. She doesn’t respond. He opens the door and she hears him take a couple of tentative steps inside.

“Mum, are… are we having dinner soon?”

She has no idea what time it is. It may have been hours, it may have been days. She doesn’t move, instead mumbling half into her comforter. “I’m not hungry. Can you make something for yourself, darling?”

“Sure,” he says, sounding rather unsure. “But… are you okay?”

She doesn’t want to lie to him, but she also doesn’t want to tell the whole truth. “I’ll be fine.” She will be. She got through this last time with no real help from Remi, she can do it again without Jakob.

“Okay.” 

She waits for him to leave, listens for the door closing, but it doesn’t happen for several seconds, as if he’s watching her. Then he’s gone. She falls asleep fully clothed, lying on top of her bed, alone again. 

  
  


***

  
  


When Jean sleeps, she dreams. She dreams of Jakob as a father, as a lover. She dreams of pan shelves and loose change. Of missed opportunities. She dreams of a baby that will never be, and of strong arms holding her, comforting her, telling her everything is going to be okay. She dreams of stability and love, and a feeling she had within her grasp that she’d let slip through her fingers.

_“Jean?”_

She hears him now, saying her name. But it can't be him. He isn’t coming back. She’s too late.

Suddenly there is a large, familiar hand upon her shoulder. _It’s just the dream_ , she thinks, but as her unconsciousness melts away, the feeling of the hand does not, and she rolls over to look up into his eyes, bright blue and full of concern. His hair is longer, looks more like him. Like the day she met him. 

Like the day she now realizes she’d fallen in love with him.

“Jean, what’s wrong?”

She looks around the room, expecting to wake up, because surely he isn’t actually here again in her bedroom. “Jakob…? What… what are you doing here?”

“Otis called, he told me… you’ve not been yourself.”

“Otis did?” 

Jakob nods. The thought of her son feeling such concern that he’d actually contacted Jakob warms her heart ever so slightly. But then the harsh reality of why he’d had to call in the first place washes over her like London fog. Her brows furrow and her face crumples, and she knows she needs to tell him. She has nothing to lose, nothing anymore.

“I lost our baby.”

The words fall out, no explanation, no preparation. Just the truth. She sees his eyes widen and feels his hand grip her tighter. His mouth opens a bit as if to offer a million questions but then, in that perfect way Jakob has, the way that reminds her how much she truly does love him, he closes his mouth and pulls her up into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around her. 

“Oh, Jean…” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

His large hand cups the back of her skull and strokes, combing her hair down, somehow putting life back into her.

He holds her and time stands still; she wishes he would stay right here with her forever. It strikes her that this is the first time she’s imagined this, imagined him inextricably entwined with the word “forever” in her mind. It means something, something important.

This is the moment, the moment she has to talk. The moment she has to be truthful. Because if she lets him go again without telling him how she feels, she’s certain that regret will follow her forever.

“No, I’m sorry, Jakob,” she says. “I’m so sorry about everything.” 

Her tears fall the way they’d done back in the house with big windows, the house that reminded her how alone she is. “I don’t know how to do this anymore. It’s been so long since I’ve allowed myself to feel like this about anyone that… I’d also forgotten what it feels like to hurt someone.”

Jakob says nothing, just lets her cry and holds her silently. 

“And now, I’m- I’m afraid this is my fault, that I’ve caused this to happen by not taking care of myself and my own emotions.”

She thinks of the future she’s been denied by her own body, the future she was unsure she wanted. The future Jakob has been denied as well. She thinks of Ola, and how wonderfully he’s raised her. How all over the world parents struggle daily in a fruitless attempt to decipher their children, and Jakob, in his infinite Socratic wisdom, has accepted the best way to parent is to simply admit his own ignorance.

She then thinks of Otis as a young child: of his cherubic innocence before learning of his father’s betrayal. She thinks of his current situation, and how he’s reminded her so much of his father at times lately that it’s scared her. How, despite being a paid professional in the advice department, she’d most certainly fucked up raising him somewhere along the way. 

Her frustration at Otis’ unwillingness to let her in and be a part of his life feels so hypocritical now in the face of her refusal to let Jakob do the same.

 _You think I’m somehow part of you,_ Otis had accused.

 _Well, you are part of me,_ she’d replied. 

It hits her like a ton of bricks. The intimacy Jakob had been trying to give her is the same thing she’s been craving all along from her son.

She feels a pang at her last conversation with Jakob; that regardless of her thoughts on the matter, he’d assumed he wasn’t worthy of her. That perhaps she wouldn’t let him in because he wasn’t the one; that somehow, he would never stack up to her scum-of-the-earth ex husband, when he couldn’t be further from the truth.

“I miss you so much,” she tells him. The ache she’s been feeling in her heart for weeks seems to cease when he holds her. “I need you to know this because when I yelled at you, when I got angry that you were everywhere, I didn’t realize that’s exactly where I need you.”

She hears it now, the catch in his chest, the hitch in his voice that tells her this isn’t over for him, either. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks softly. “About the baby?” 

She wipes a tear from her cheek and sniffles. “I thought… I thought maybe you wouldn’t believe me, that maybe you’d think I’d cheated on you.”

He nods, not buying it. “What’s the real reason?”

She sighs, his ability to somehow know her every motivation both impressive and irritating. 

“I wanted you back,” she says simply. “And I feared you’d never know that, if you knew about the pregnancy. That you’d never truly believe I was in this for us, and us alone.”

He tilts his head to the side, his eyes half-lidded in that lazy way of his. “And are you? In this for us?”

“If you’ll still have me,” she says softly. “Yes, I want to be.”

She sees a flicker of relief in his expression, and knows this is what he’s needed to hear from her. Not a flippant dismissal of her betrayal as _just a kiss_ , not a huff and a goodbye forever. Sincerity, honesty.

Intimacy.

“I miss you too,” he says, and it’s music to her ears. “My life is just not the same without you, Jean.”

She can’t not kiss him anymore, and while she will still lay some blame on the pheromones, she now knows it’s definitely something more. She pulls him in close and when their lips meet she feels whole again.

“There’s one more thing I need to tell you,” she says, and she feels tears welling up; emotion she’s tried so long to avoid but has no reason to anymore.

“Yes?”

She places a hand on his face and, pulling a piece of his hair between her fingers softly, feels absolutely, one hundred percent certain this is where she wants him to be. Right here, in her arms.

“I love you, Jakob.”

He covers her hand with his own and closes his eyes, the admission alone overwhelming him. Pulling her hand over his lips he presses a kiss there, and when he opens his eyes again she sees the same love she should have accepted from him before.

He holds her tightly and she feels safe again, she feels content. The pain from her loss will take time to heal fully, but she’s gained him back. And right now, it’s exactly what she needs.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_“We can never truly understand these creatures we’ve created.”_

  
  


Jakob moves back in, but this time, he is welcomed with open arms. 

The piles of change have disappeared, there’s always hot water, and he’s back in her bed where he belongs. She can’t help but wonder if she’d only been communicative in the first place rather than simply reactive, they might have avoided this entire problem.

The pain and loss from her miscarriage is still healing, but Jakob is supportive and sympathetic, exactly the opposite of what Remi was. She tells him this. She also tells him she prefers his hair the way it is: the way it used to be.

She finally lets him in, for good. He is part of her.

One afternoon they sit together on the deck, admiring the beauty of the hillside. _Pillow Talk_ bought her this house, and even after Remi left she never had to feel like she hadn’t earned it herself. Somehow, however, she’s never truly appreciated the view until now, sitting beside Jakob.

“I think I’ve got the title for my next book,” she says to him. He looks up from the newspaper he’s reading. 

“Oh yeah?”

She smiles, there’s a dramatic pause. “ _Inviting in Intimacy._ ”

He nods thoughtfully. “It’s shit.”

Jean swats him playfully with her notepad, and they hear the front door open.

“Hello, darling!” Jean calls in the general direction of the house. “How was school today?”

Just then Otis appears on the deck, and in his palm he grasps something Jean has never in her life seen him hold before: a girl’s hand.

She’s pretty, gorgeous actually, with dark hair and deep brown eyes that go for miles. Her body language indicates she’s shy but Jean can tell she isn’t, not really. Just nervous.

“Mum, this is Maeve,” Otis says proudly. Maeve grins tightly and gives Jean and Jakob a wave. Otis looks at her. “Maeve, this is my mum.”

Jean looks at the girl, this person who clearly means a great deal to her son. This person who represents the part of his life he’s finally letting her in to see. Her eyes dart to Otis, and with barely suppressed delight he mouths the word “ _nightingale!_ ”

A million things to say cross her mind, all of them outside the typical parental boundaries. Instead, she fights the urge and simply says, “So nice to meet you, Maeve.”

Otis gestures to Jakob. “This is her boyfriend, Jakob.”

Jakob nods politely at Maeve, but Jean can feel his gaze drift back to herself. He knows how important this moment is for her, the moment her son exposes his underbelly. She loves him even more for noticing.

“Would you like to stay for dinner, Maeve?” Jean asks.

Maeve looks over at Otis, who nods. “Sure, if that’s all right,” she says. 

“Good,” Jean responds. Then, unable to help herself, “You two are using protection, I hope.”

“Bye, mum!” Otis exhales, spinning on his heels as Maeve stifles a laugh. He pulls his new girlfriend towards the stairs and up they go.

“Be sure to close the door!” Jean calls after them, and sure enough, it slams.

Jakob shakes his head. “You really are a strange woman,” he says, laughing.

“Not strange, just… attentive.”

“Even better.” He leans over, plants a kiss on her cheek. “You know, you’re very sexy when you’re being completely inappropriate.”

“Am I?”

Jakob grins at her, taking her hand as he goes back to his paper, and she gazes out at the hillside.

Dr. Jean Milburn has rarely faked a thing in her life. Not advice, not an orgasm. Only the occasional relationship.

Now, it's nice to know she doesn’t have to.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who stuck around with me and waited for the end of this story. It was such a fun departure to tackle another show, and I hope you enjoyed it. Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated. -a;)


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